Art In Me
by Kenobi
Summary: Christian Considers Life, Death, and Love.


Art In Me   
Kenobi 

Author's Note:   
There is a little dialogue from the movie..I just hope I got it right.   
This story is from Christian's Point of View.   
There are *spoilers* in this story. You've been warned. (Added on request. Thanks, Serris, I didn't even think about that, I'm such a scatterbrain.) 

Disclaimer:   
I do not have the priviledge of owning most of what is in this tale.   


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Why should I go on? I repeatedly ask myself. There is never a day where I don't consider ending it all. I ponder life and death as I stare at the window of my small apartment from my bed. How easy it would be just to simply step off. Wouldn't it be the greatest deed to die for love? I've lost all track of time that I can't recall when I first sat down and watched the night sky with insensitive eyes. The same suggestions running through my mind for what I guess has been hours. 

I am a writer, I adore all kinds of literature and works of art. How many times have I read or seen displays where one lover couldn't live without the other and followed them in death. So why can't I? It's been too long since I've seen her. So long since I held her or made her laugh...Since I saw her smile. My Satine. My only goal in my life back then was to make her happy. But now she's gone so my purpose is gone. 

Tonight would be the night. It felt like an eternity since she died in my arms. That night was a blur for me. The last time I saw her beautiful face is hazy in my memory. Clouded from my tears and through time. I can still feel myself losing control. My body trembling with my sobs while she lay still. But soon I will be with her again. On that cold night her life faded from me and on a similar winters night I will end mine. I am determined to. Why I stood living without her for so long is a mystery. 

I idly stand up and watch as the open window gradually becomes closer. The cruel wind bites at my skin, but I take no notice. I've become so numb over time. First to others and then to all emotions except sorrow and regret. Second to physical comfort and appearance. Apathy has overtaken me completely. 

Before I know it I reach my destination. Gripping the sides of the window I lift myself up to plant my feet on the ledge. I step out onto the small walkway that surrounds my apartment. Slowly I blink and take in a long deep breath, one of the last it should be. The air was crisp, cool and refreshing, never before had I stopped before to enjoy the weather of winter. Funny that I chose this night to take notice. 

I take one more last glance at the other buildings around mine. What was once the highlight of entertainment and pleasure was now an abandoned, forgotten structure. The Moulin Rouge. A place where my life started and ended. I don't know whether to be thankful for the club that brought me to my love or resentful to it for enslaving her. 

I tear my eyes from the broken letters and spinning windmill to the unusually animal shaped suite. I can recall gazing through my window to see her there lightly singing. I was mesmerized by her voice and words...I can still hear her bittersweet melody. 

I end my recollection and focus on the present. I casually climb the very edge of the shelf, straighten my back and look directly ahead. This was it, I would be with Satine again. 

"I will love you till the end of time..,"I whisper with some tune. 

My thoughts of oncoming death and of being reunited with Satine were interrupted by a soft knock on my door. It had been a little while since I last heard that sound. A month or two at least, and whenever I did hear it it was usually Toulouse come to have a little chat or so he said. He was really a good friend, worried about me most of the time. I assume his visit's purpose was to make sure I was still living. 

I waited to make sure that it was indeed a knock. Sure enough it came again, at this point I was slightly annoyed. Why did he choose to 'check up on me' now? 

"Go away, Toulouse..,"I shouted over the whipping wind. I waited to hear a protest from my little friend, but none came. Closing my eyes and inhaling intensely through my nostrils I swung my leg outwards. Only to be once again disturbed by the feeble knocking. 

Sighing grimly I dismount the balcony and enter my humble room. I trudge the length to the door in three steps and abruptly yank it open. Instead of seeing a short unusually cheerful fellow I saw a young woman who was quite startled by my outburst. 

"Uh..Pardon me Monsieur, but I.. I'm looking for a writer," she stumbled through her sentences. I didn't recognize her. She wasn't a tall woman, attractive yes, but I no longer looked upon other woman in that manner. 

There was an unintentional silence. My mind occupied with wonderment at who she was and why she was here to bother replying. 

"A writer who goes by the name of Christian, wrote the first play for the Moulin Rouge, I was told he lived here," she broke the quiet, obviously unsure of what my response will be by her tone of voice. 

"Oh, yes.., I'm Christian," I stuttered, "Won't you come in?" Some hint of the manners my father taught me returning. I open the door wide while stepping back. 

"Thank you," she smiled politely. 

A minor feeling of embarrassment came over me at the appearance of my residence, although she seemed not to notice or care. The woman's apparel suggested that she was well off; she looked quite out of place in my room being littered with empty liquor bottles and other muck. Yet my unconcern for other's opinion stayed. 

"Please take a seat," I insisted, while pacing the room for a drink amongst the vacant containers. 

"Thats quite alright, I am fine." I was amazed by her light-hearted demeanor towards myself and her surroundings. 

"I can't stay long so I'll try to hurry all I've been wanting to say. I'm assuming you are wondering why I am here, Mr..," she trailed off. 

"Just call me Christian," I called over my shoulder 

"..Christian, I am Dina Steckel. I came to express my gratitude to you." 

I stopped my rummaging to listen more intently. Thank me..for what? So far all I've been is reasonably polite. I also don't recall ever meeting her in the past. 

"For the play that you wrote. You see I was in the crowd during opening night of the first actually theatre entertainment the Moulin Rouge put on." There was a short pause. "And I can honestly say that your drama encouraged me to seek the one that I love instead of another," she continued. 

I couldn't believe my ears. It was just a silly show that was long forgotten. 

"I know that there was a lot of fantasy elements in the play but I couldn't help but sense a fragment of truth. That truth spoke to me that night. It was the last scene that genuinely inspired me to choose the man I love who was what you would call a 'penniless sitar player'. I can sincerely claim that it was your truth shining through the glamour that saved our love, that is mine and my husbands." 

I was looking at her now over my shoulder. My face must have looked dumbfounded, for that is how I felt. I only stared as she spoke. Stared and thought of Satine's last words 

"Now look at me, I've gone and run away with my words. Forgive me if I sound absurd," she said blushing slightly. 

"No," I replied softly, "No, you made perfect since. There was truth in it. Thank you, I...I needed to hear that." 

She smiled brightly at me. I made a feeble attempt to imitate it. Silence returned. 

"I apologize, but I must be going," she said while taking a few steps towards the door. I moved to open the door for her. 

"I hope to see you again someday. And I truly thank you, you have an amazing gift Christian, do share it with others. Au revour, Christian. " I smiled at her before she left, it was one of my first sincere grins in a long while. I watched as she left and then gently closed the door after her. 

Resting my forehead on the rough wood I closed my eyes to take it all in. I was just about to make the biggest mistake of my life. How could I have forgotten Satine's final words and her closing wishes? She wanted me to live and share the talent I have.. 

_ 'You have so much to give.' _She had whispered... 

I stumbled over to the nearest clear wall and leaned against it. My heart was in an uproar. I longed for her so much that I had forgotten everything else. I was selfish. 

I sank to the cold floor wiping the liquid from my face with my sleeve. So many thoughts engrossed my mind. I considered the woman who had just departed. It was refreshing to know that Satine and I made an impression on another couple. That she had not died in vain. 

I thought of Satine and our love. My mind brought back little memories of simply times. I was once told that love was what you did for others. I once loved her like that. Only to forget it after she was gone. What _I_ wanted was to end my existence to be with her. I wanted her so badly... I was thinking of myself and my own comfort. Not of her and what she would want. She wanted me to live, to use what I had. 

Her soft voice echoed in my mind... 

For a moment I considered how the world was full of a kind of selfish love. A love that only sought what one person can get out of a relationship and not what the one can give. I will continue giving to my love, even after her death, with my life and throughout my life. 

Her last request was for me to use my gift and our story and tell a tale regarding truth...of beauty... about freedom. And above all things a story about love. 

------- 

_ I'm trying hard to see   
Turning endless pages of this tragedy   
Sculpting every move you compose a symphony   
You plead to everyone, "See the art in me" _

-Dan Haseltine 


End file.
